Comparing — and weighing in on — the merits of different burgers is particular fun in part because it’s a sport for just about everyone. (O.K., vegetarians lose out.) It’s as accessible and egalitarian as food writing and food obsessing gets.

The price points are such that you’re not left out of the action by its expense. And the frame of reference that even the least committed diner has for making burger judgments is pretty broad. If you’ve spent most of your life in this country, you’re around or above the age of 30 and your diet has typically included red meat, you’ve probably eaten thousands of burgers by now.

This everybody-aboard aspect of burger opining is probably why one of the biggest subjects of food-related chatter this week was Steve Cuozzo’s entertaining rant against the Shake Shack in the New York Post this week. It was time for someone to question the arguably crazy degree of reverence so many New Yorkers feel for the Shake Shack and their masochistic willingness to stand in line for more than a half hour, easy, for one of the Shack’s burgers.

But my burger jag has yielded of late to a pizza jag, and I didn’t really even plan it that way. It just sort of happened.

Intrigued by the phenomenon of Pizzeria Mozza in Los Angeles, I found myself downing the chef Nancy Silverton’s hugely enjoyable pies there. Interested to check on the chef Marc Vetri’s expansion in Philadelphia, I headed to that city, where I learned that his new restaurant, Osteria, has a prominently displayed wood-burning pizza oven, which turns out pies with thinner, less complicated crusts than Ms. Silverton’s but with wonderful charred patches and great toppings.

And I have to say: both Ms. Silverton’s pies and Mr. Vetri’s pies were a lot, lot better than the ones I had recently at Il Brigante, a new-ish pizzeria down near the South Street Seaport in lower Manhattan. (214 Front Street, 212-285-0222.)

The comparison isn’t a neat and tidy one: Il Brigante is a smaller, less upscale operation than those other restaurants, and its pies in most cases cost a few dollars less.

But I bring Il Brigante up for discussion because it’s been the subject of much curiosity and conversation among food lovers since an absolute rave review from Robert Sietsema in The Village Voice about two and a half weeks ago.

He called the restaurant’s margherita pizza (tomato sauce, mozzarella, basil) “the city’s most perfect evocation of the true Naples style.”

Pizza in Naples. (Peppe Avallone for The New York Times)

Huh?

If his point is that Neapolitan pizza is unduly romanticized, and that your standard pizza pie in Naples is not necessarily some gastronomically wondrous epiphany, then O.K., there’s some merit to what he’s saying.

But his point seems to be that he loved this pie. My lunch companion and I found nothing lovable about it.

Its thin crust was neither crisp nor luxuriantly spongy, occupying some undistinguished middle ground in between. It wasn’t blistered or especially charred — in that good, smoky way — in spots.

Instead of having any of the kinds of ridges or undulations you find in abundance in the pies at Pizzeria Mozza in Los Angeles and to some degree in those at Una Pizza Napoletana in the East Village, Il Brigante’s pies had a flatness in shape matched by a flatness in taste.

We wondered if the wood-burning pizza oven these pies had come from was really reaching sufficiently high temperatures. We wondered if the dough with which they were being made was being allowed to sit for much time before it went into that oven.

The tomato sauce on the margherita ($10 for lunch, $12 for dinner, for a pie about 10 inches in diameter) had a pleasant sweetness, but nothing extraordinary. The mozzarella had been used in sensible measure: it didn’t overwhelm anything else. Ditto for the whole basil leaves clinging to the surface.

But nothing about this pizza argued strongly for a trip outside your own neighborhood, where you could probably find a pizza to rival or surpass it.

We sampled one other pie while there: the Il Brigante, named, obviously, for the restaurant. It’s $14 at lunch, $16 at dinner. And while it had the same ordinary crust as the margherita, its toppings — imported prosciuttio di Parma, shaved Parmesan and sharp arugula in addition to tomato sauce — to some degree redeemed it.

I’ll cover more pizzas as time goes by. I’ve been bitten by a sort of pizza bug.

But before I sign off this time around, I’d like to say that the service at Il Brigante is impressively friendly.

And I’d like to say, on the old subject of burgers, that I’m still — still — thinking about the ones I had at Resto (111 East 29th Sreet, 212-685-5585), ones made with fatback and beef cheek in addition to hanger steak.

I had previously thought I was a traditionalist, a ground-round and ground-chuck and ground-sirloin kind of guy. But you live and you learn. And maybe you gain a few pounds and feel your arteries constrict just a bit in the process.

When it comes to pizza, I’m a fan of the plain slice that’s been thrown in the oven a second time after cooling. If done just right, it lends an extra level of crisp to the crust, and nicely toasts the top of the cheese. Most pizza joints don’t cook their sauce long enough to let it mellow and develop flavor. One place which did was Charleston Pizza on Bedford, which had, in my opinion, the best twice-baked slice in town, but it seems to have closed.

As far as burgers go, I’m pro-Peter Luger and anti-Donovan’s. Luger’s burger is clean, perfect, juicy, and flavorful. Donovan’s is a gloppy mess.

A couple of other standouts, though, which I’ve never seen mentioned on burger sites thus far: the burger at Mr. Dennehy’s on Carmine is exceptional, much to my surprise, and so is the burger at McReilly’s pub on Vernon Blvd in LIC. And a place called Lucky Burger on 51st (?) and 9th Ave, was the closest I’ve had to In’N’Out burger in this city. Fresh, fast, and juicy.

Phillip, Phillip, Phillip-
Believe it or not,
there are other places in the lower 48
that can make a good pizza, burger, or tuna sandwich.
And they can be had without the attitude or ridiculous prices,
or the one hour and fifteen minute wait in a line for a lousy burger
that Mr. Cuozzo described at Shake Shack.

Mr. Bruni, I’m sure you’ll soon be heading to Di Fara in Brooklyn to scratch the itch brought on by the pizza bug. I’ll be interested to hear what you think…

To everyone else, if you truly love pizza, you owe it to yourself to make the pilgrimage at least once in your life. We went in April and thought it totally lived up to the legend. If nothing else, this is definitely the freshest-tasting pie in town.

I’ve read your account of pizza with interest. When pizza travels, and it has traveled far, when it reaches Sri Lanka, the island where I live — the wonderful tastes of melting mozzarella and tomato sauce, meet red hot chili. The ensuring combination of tastes is quite special. I’ve blogged about it here, and I thought it might be of interest to you, and your readers.

Frank, if you’re going to start doing pizza, you better spend some time in Chicago. Deep dish doesn’t get better than there, even tho I know NY style is thin crust. For a pie worthy of a heart attack, you gotta go to the Windy City.

I have to say, what is going on with the photo of the pizza? That is one sorry looking piece of pie for anyone in the know about pizza, and the one on the marble slab isn’t much better. We count on you for inspiration Frank. I second the Pizza in New Haven, though my heart was constantly torn between Sally’s and Peppe’s.

I can’t believe Posto, at 18th st and Second ave has not been raved about as the best pizza around. My Italian friends agree. I go out of my way for it. I’m only sharing this because I’m leaving the country for a few years.

I am absolutely a Pepe’s person, and think their white clam pie is the best thing on earth. I’m also a huge fan of the pizza at Bar in New Haven as well.

I have to honestly say that I was absolutely shocked to find that the pizza most approaching the absolute wonder that is New Haven pizza may be Adrienne’s Pizzabar on Stone St. Had it again a week after travelling down to Coney Island for Totonno’s and, at this point, it’s not even close. Adrienne’s, hands down. History be damned.

Anna: I have to say that I was at Pisano’s last time I was in Chicago and, while the toppings were fresh and tasty, the deep dish crust just couldn’t escape memories of bad Pizzeria Uno. Deep dish can be yummy, but it’s just a very, very different animal onto itself.

The combined American passion with finding the perfect hamburger and pizza amounts to about 1/2 of that of the Japanese passion for ramen. Reading the NYT coverage of American pursuit of our beloved burgers and pizza is downright “cute” compared to Japanese near “religious” coverage of their beloved dish. If there was more interest and passion here for eating these dishes and pride in making them, we’d have many more quality shops to choose from than the mere handful of “queue-worthy” joints there are now.

I have to say that over the years, every time I’ve tried an Italian Sietsema recommendation, I come to the conclusion that his taste buds are broken. He’s a great write who painstakingly researches culinary history, but his taste buds, at least in relation to Italian food, do not work. One of the worst Italian meals I have ever had was based on his recommendation. I have not had this pizza, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Bruni is right.

I still maintain that the Nick’s on 94th and 2nd consitently serves the best specialty pizza around. Patsy’s is some good stuff too, but Nicks is still the ultimate for me. I also feel that there’s an important difference between all of these restaurant pizza places and the good ol’ pizzeria pizza. The best slice I’ve had is at Sal and Carmines up on 101st Street and Broadway. Their broccoli slice is pretty incredible, as is their plain. Huge slices and the grumpy old Italian men serving that serve them make slumming it worthwhile.

Ledo’s Pizza in Maryland is the best Pizza in the country, though it is very different than traditional Neopolitan pie. It is always square (rectangular, in fact,) with a pastry-like crust. The sauce is a bit sweet, and the cheese is all provolone. The pie is sliced into perfect little squares, and the best topping is pepperoni, which is cut thick and layered one piece per square. It’s an acquired taste, but even the New York greats, and yes, I’ve tried them all, can’t come close.

It just goes to show that Pizza is more a function of where you learned to love it than where it is made best.

I’m probably going to regret posting this, as it’s my local- but Jean Danet Pasrty in Bay Ridge (long famous for their croissants) is putting out some remarkable artisanal pies from their brick oven. Try the white pie with black olives and artichoke, or the meat-laden Capricossa.